Boo fucking hoo

OK, I just heard Hillary say it again. And I've had enough. I'm going to scream now.

The Clinton campaign is making much ado about how important it is that Every State Gets To Vote. They should all have their say. If Florida and Michigan aren't counted, it will be some kind of fundamental violation of every small-d democratic principle America holds dear. She won't be able to be president for the whole country if only 48 states get their say. (Yes. She actually said that.)

Oh, please. As IF.

In every election between 1976 and 2000, I voted in California. For those of you not familiar with this state -- or unaware that it's actually allowed to vote -- let me tell you what this means.

The Golden State has a population of roughly 36 million people (there are, in fact, more Californians than there are Canadians). That means that one in 7 Americans - roughly 15% of the country -- lives under the big white Bear Flag. That's a lot of Americans. In fact, that's almost as many Americans as you'll find in the next two most populous states combined.

You'd think that a state that whopping big and important should definitely have a say in who gets to be president. You'd be wrong.

Thing of it is: Until this last election, California always brought up the rear in the primary season. Every one of the seven elections I've voted in had the primary on the first Tuesday in June. Of course, by that point, the candidates had invariably long since been settled on -- so our votes counted for absolute squat. If it wasn't for all those weird propositions that come out of our bizarre initiative process, there would be pretty much no point in showing up at the polls at all.

People in Iowa and New Hampshire all get to have dinner with candidates. It's all very sweet and kissy-face. The candidates know their kids and dogs by name and send them birthday cards and drop by just to sweep their porches. But out in California, it's rare for the candidates to come visit during the primary season at all (unless they're hitting Hollywood and Silicon Valley fat cats up for money. Democrats don't get elected without big pots of California money.). There are no rallies. There are no debates. There are no public speeches. There is no point: by the time the circus gets around to us, it's all a done deal.

The last time California had a say in choosing a presidential candidate was when we put Bobby Kennedy over the top in 1968. And he got shot on his way out of giving his victory speech that same night. Which meant even that didn't count in the end, either. See what I mean?

Our total non-participation in the primary process is a fact of life that Californians have grumbled about for decades. Nobody, of course, has listened -- at least, not until this year, when my home state finally got to vote on Super Tuesday like everybody else. (I, of course, now live elsewhere.) If you're a Californian under 50, March 5, 2008 was the first time you've ever in your life cast a primary vote that counted. (Was it everything we hoped it would be?)

So all this whinging and hand-wringing and pearl-clutching and hyperventiliating about how we can't disenfranchise those poor Michiganders and Floridians, because it wouldn't be fair, and everybody deserves their say -- I'm sorry. I just have a hard time finding a lot of sympathy. Nobody said boo when 36 million of us lived our whole lives being shunted off to the far left side of the process, and now you want me to care? Not happening. You're not special. Being left behind in the delegate count may be a new and stunning development for you; but there's a huge part of the country for whom this is just how it is. We pulled on our big-girl bikinis and got over it. Bet you can, too.

It's not that I don't think the situation is sticky, nuanced, and important. I just think it needs to be argued on other grounds -- grounds that aren't totally insulting to the country's most populous and wealthiest state, which is only now being invited to the party for the very first time ever.